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ORATION 



BY FRANCIS E. HOPPIN 



AND 



P'OEM 



BY HENRY C. WHITAKER, 

DELIVERED UPON THE OCCASION OE OPENING THE NEW ROOMS OE THE 

FRANKLIN LYCEUM, 

n 

November 19, ISSS, 

/ , ■^■ 

.^1^'^ ^'^' r "WITH A SKETCH OF THE 



OTHER DEDICATORY EXERCISES. 



-S PEOVIDENCE: 

PRINTED BT ORDER OF THE ERANKDIN LYCEUM. 

1859. 






At a meeting of the Pranklin liyceum, November 22d, a yote of thanks to Messrs. F. E. 
Hoppin and H. C. Whitaker, the Orator and Poet upon the occasion of opening the new 
rooms of the Lyceum, was adopted ; and a committee was appointed to wait upon those 
gentlemen, and solicit a copy of the Oration and Poem for publication. At a subsequent 
meeting, upon receiving a favorable report from the Committee, the Lyceum voted to print 
twelve hundred copies of the Oration and Poem, with the accompanying exercises ; and 
Messrs. F. W. Miner, I?. Oolwell, Jr., and G. W. Danielson were appointed a committee to make 
the necessary arrangements and have the general oversight of the same. 



f 



PROVIDENCE: 

BRADFORD, MIHER & SIMONS, 

Steam Printers. 



ORATIO 



BRETHREN OE THE FRANKLIN LYCEUM : 



You are celebrating to-night an important epoch in your 
history ; you are dedicating to their uses a hall and rooms 
specially built for, and admirably suited to, your accommo- 
dation ; you have placed upon its pedestal an enduring 
effigy of Franklin, and have renewed your vows of alle- 
giance to his memory. Every traveler who lifts his eye 
towards the building where you will assemble, must be 
reminded by that motionless but eloquent figure in the midst 
of the realities of life, that " great men have been among 
us," and gather new strength and be filled with more 
vigorous resolutions. 

The erection of statues has a two-fold significance, not 
only illustrating our gratitLide to Public Virtue, but quick- 
ening us to a worthy imitation. 

In this particular let not the States of America lag behind 
the cities of Greece and Rome, and the modern empires 
and kingdoms of Europe ! 

This is the first public statue in Rhode Island ! let it be 
the beginning of a phalanx of statues ! Let our Heroes, our 
Poets and OLir Statesmen live among us, not only in the 
fruits of their labors, but in monuments of bronze and marble, 
adorning our streets and our parks — preaching perpettially 
the virtues of the departed — and reminding us, who are too 



often engrossed in the petty cares of every day life, of loftier 
duties and more noble pursuits. In a building conspicu- 
ously distinguished from its neighbors, and dignified by the 
statue of that illustrious man, under the auspices of whose 
name your institution flourishes, you enter upon a new era 
in its history, with a determination to devote yourselves 
heartily and earnestly to the noble ends for which it was 
founded. 

Before approaching the chief topic of my discourse, I 
propose to notice very briefly the principal events in the 
history of the Franklin Lyceum, that we may thus see 
together the bud, the blossom, and the ripened fruit. 

Its name was originally the Providence Lyceum. The 
precise date of its formation is unknown. The first meet- 
ings were held in the winter of 1829-30. Its first members 
were all scholars in Mr. De Witt's school on Waterman 
street, and its meetings were held at their homes on Friday 
evenings, after the labors of the school were over. The 
earliest members were William B. Shove, Levi H. Holden, 
Daniel A. Jackson, Geronimo Urmeneta, Thomas L. 
Dunnell, Charles J. Gushing, William E. Hamlin and 
Crawford Nightingale. 

The records, which were regularly kept, have been 
unfortunately lost. The oflicers were elected quarterly. 
The exercises consisted of lectures and debates on alternate 
evenings. 

The first regular room occupied by the Lyceum was in 
the basement of Mr. Shove's house, on Benefit street, 
nearly opposite Rev. Mr. Swain's meeting house, where a 
cabinet of minerals, shells, chemical apparatus, antiquities 
and a library were commenced. 

The first room hired by the society was in a small build- 
ing opposite Dr. Hall's meeting house, on Benefit street. 
The next room was in the third story of the Arcade. The 
next rooms were in Mr. De Witt's school house. 

From thence, in 1849, the society moved to the hafl on 
Westminster street, just vacated. 



By the earliest records of the Providence Lyceum, dated 
June 1st, 1832, it appears that it then contained ten or 
twelve active members. The objects of its organization 
are not stated in the Constitution or By-Laws. Its chief 
design, however, was to establish a system of lectm-es by 
its members, and to collect a cabinet of minerals. Their 
officers were still elected quarterly. 

At a meeting held December 18th, 1832, it was " Re- 
solved, that the object of this society, viz.: mutual im- 
provement, can best be promoted by lectures, debates, and 
reading, conjointly." 

At a meeting held December 22d, 1832, the name of the 
society was changed to that of the Franklin Lyceum. 

The first recorded Annual Meeting was held January Sth? 
1833, at which the officers were elected, the first number 
of " The Lyceum Star and Evening Chronicle " was read, 
consisting of original contributions from members, and 
after an address from Mr. Craioford Nightingale, the society 
adjourned in a body to Mr. Armington's saloon. 

At the meeting held February 9th, 1833, the^r^^ question 
of debate was proposed, viz : " Is the influx of foreigners 
into this country an advantage to it ? " which was discussed 
at the next meeting, and decided in the ajlJirmative, showing 
that the Native American ieeling had not then been aroused. 

On the 11th of May, A. D. 1833, it was resolved that the 
permanent exercises of the Society shall be four, viz ; lec- 
tures, debates, original compositions and declamations, to 
which may be added the newspaper, and the reading of 
some scientific work. 

On the 21st June, A. D. 1833, the question for debate, 
viz : " Are early marriages generally advisable ? " was de- 
cided in the affirmative, showing that the youth of the 
members did not prevent the agitation of a most interest- 
ing subject ; and two resolutions were passed, viz : one 
forbidding the use of tobacco, under a penalty ; the other, 
" That if a person should laugh while speaking, he should 
be requested to take his seat." 



6 



On the 7th December, A. D. 1833, a resolution was pass- 
ed, which was the germ of the present library, viz. : " That 
it is expedient to collect hooks ^ to form a library for the sole 
use and benefit of the members of the Society." 

At the Annual Meeting, held Jan. 4th, 1834, the mem- 
bers of the Society adjourned to Mr. Charles G. Brown's 
saloon, where a sumptuous repast had been prepared ; and 
the record states, " that the members afterwards returned 
home much edified by the after-piece." 

On the 25th January, 1834, it was voted, with great 
transparency of language, " that especial attention be de- 
voted to some one subject for a longer or shorter period" 
and that a "knowledge of ^mineralogy' was necessary." 

On the 31st January, 1835, Lecturers were appointed in 

various departments, viz. : General Literature, History, 

•Geography, Travels, Hydrostatics, Acoustics, Phrenology, 

Optics, Botany, Chemistry, Geology, Mineralogy and 

Conchology. 

On January 1st, 1836, the first public Anniversary was 
held, at which Henry C. Whitaker delivered an Address, 
and William M. Rodman a Poem. 

On the 19th of March, 1836, a weekly meteorological 
register was provided for. 

On April 30th, 1836, a new Constitution and By-Laws, 
not differing essentially from the old, were adopted. 

On the 12th January, 1839, the Franklin Lyceum may 
be said to have ceased to exist. Its meetings were ad- 
journed sine die, and its coMnet, by a vote, deposited with 
the Rhode Island Society of Natural History, there being 
at the time but tioelve resident members. 

On the 2d of May, A. D. 1839, (one hundred and ten 
days afterwards,) a special meeting of the Lyceum was 
called ; and on the 11th May, 1839, the Committee having 
reported that the arrangement with the Society of Natural 
History was at an end, the Franklin Lyceum again re- 
sumed its regular meetings. 

Between the years 1839 and 1842 the Franklin Lyceum 



7 



Revieiv and Miscellany, under various editors, appeared, 
and the copies have been preserved. 

In the winter of 1839 and 1840, Ralph Waldo Emerson 
delivered a public lecture at the request of the Society ; and 
this was the inaugui;jition of its Annual Courses of Lec- 
tures. 

On the 20th of March, A. D. 1843, a charter, which had 
been granted by the General Assembly in January, 1843, 
and under which the Lyceum now exists, was accepted. 

On the 25th day of September, A. D. 1848, the West-- 
minster Lyceum was united to the Franklin Lyceum, and 
its members were all admitted as members of this Society. 

On the 17th day of February, A. D. 1858, the Lyceum 
completed an arrangement with Mr. George W. Danielson, 
whereby it obtained the new Hall and Rooms which to- 
night are formally dedicated. 

The Lyceum now numbers upwards of six hundred 
members. Its Library contains upwards of three thousand 
volumes. Upon its tables are to be found the daily papers 
of the city, of Boston and New York, and the leading 
magazines and periodicals of England and America. 

It has sustained for many winters past popular courses 
of lectures, from the most eminent men. 

It is recognized as one of the permanent institutions of 
Providence ; and it has attained this remarkable prosperity, 
notwithstanding its origin in a mere childish caprice ; for 
it is certain that to a few boys who manifested uncommon 
sagacity and perseverance, are we indebted for what we 
now behold. 

Many of the early members of the Franklin Lyceum are 
with you this evening, to mingle their congratulations with 
yours. One of then- number will soon stand in your pre- 
sence, to adorn this point in your history with his harmo- 
nious verse, and to impress upon your memories in a more 
graceful and permanent manner, the thoughts which are 
kindred to this occasion. 

In its formation and practical operation, the. debate has 



8 



always occupied a prominent place. This is an important 
auxiliary in education. It aids us in obtaining correct 
views upon every question, by showing to us both sides of 
it, and enabling us by ^judicial effort to determine between 
the two. It also affords the best opportunity for cultivat- 
ing a confidence in our own powers, and the habit of ex- 
tempore expression, which, in a country where assemblages 
for all purposes are so common, and the use of free speech 
is so often and so happily invoked, is of so much impor- 
tance. 

It is in the Lyceum^ where the forms of parliamentary 
decorum are observed, that our future orators are formed. 
It is there, that their first tremulous voices are heard. It is 
there, that their thunderbolts are forged, which they shall 
afterwards hurl defiantly at Tyranny, whatever guise it may 
wear. It is there, that they learn to add the momentum of 
eloquence to the power of logic. 

Franklin, in the plan of his first society, the Junto, re- 
garded the practice of debate as one of its means of im- 
provement. But he frequently and emphatically declared 
his opposition to debating any subject without requisite 
preparation ; to disputation simply and not discussion ; to 
talking for the mere sake of talking ! Carlyle says, " That 
in the learned professions as in the unlearned, and in hu- 
man things throughout, in every place and in every time, 
the true function of intellect is not that of talking, but of 
understanding and discovering, with a view to performing ! 
An intellect may easily talk too much and perform too lit- 
tle. Gradually if it get into the noxious hahit of talk, there 
will less and less performance come of it, talk being so 
delightfully handy, in comparison with work, and at last there 
will no work, or thought of work, be got from it at all." 

This element of talk, which is the popular element in 
these societies, although useful, may thus be abused. A 
man may talk easily, and still be very far from stirring the 
hearts of his hearers — very far from being eloquent. In the 
words of Webster, '■'■True eloquence does not consist in 



9 



speech. * * * Labor and learning may toil for it ; but 
they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be mar- 
shalled in every way ; but they cannot compass it. * * * 
Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declama- 
tion, all may aspire after it — they cannot reach it. It 
comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain 
from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with 
spontaneous, original, native force." 

The scheme of Franklin's society, to which more atten- 
tion should be paid in your Lyceum, (and which the sys- 
tem of written lectures by your members fully meets,) also 
required that a question should be propounded at a preced- 
ing meeting, and answered in ivriting; he believing with 
Bacon, that " writing' maketli the exact 7nan.''^ 

Your Library should be increased. " For no entertain- 
ment is so cheap as reading, and no pleasure is so lasting;" 
but great care should be taken, that the food prepared for 
the mind should be of a healthy and nutritious character. 

Having thus very imperfectly sketched the history of 
your Society, I beg now to ask your attention to the brief 
discussion of a subject, which has been suggested to me 
by its name — The Franklin Lyceum. 

About two thousand years ago, in the neighborhood of the 
city of Athens, a Gymnasium, which had been built by 
Pericles for bodily exercises, and in which the Grecian 
youths met to dispute — not with their tongues, but with 
their brawny arms — was devoted by Aristotle, the pupil of 
Plato, to the teaching of his philosophy. This place was 
called the Lyceum. 

In the school of Aristotle but little of a practical charac- 
ter was taught. Even the divisions of his philosophy are 
almost unintelligible. He instructed his pupils in the rela- 
tions of man to the Supreme Being, the constitution of the 
human soul, the origin of virtue, and other matters which 
properly belong to that branch of philosophy called Meta- 
physics. While we respect this great philosopher, for the 



10 



accuracy of his observations, his mode of arriving at truth, 
and for the beauty of his scheme of logic^ upon which but 
little improvement has since been made, we feel that the 
progress of the human race was not promoted by his teach- 
ings, so full of dreams and abstractions. His philosophy 
was like a treadmill, upon which its votaries, although oc- 
cupied constantly, achieved nothing ; or an amphitheatre, 
in which gaily caparisoned steeds appeared to fly swiftly 
forward, but never advanced ; or a balloon, ascending to 
sublime heights, but bringing nothing from the trackless re- 
gions where it had been wandering. 

And so of all the philosophy of the ancients. While in 
their teachings we discern the loftiest conceptions and the 
evidences of mighty intellects, we know that they refrained 
from the pursuit of any wisdom, which could practically 
enlighten, or promote the welfare of mankind. 

But to your Lyceum is joined the name of Franklin. Ey 
the connection we are reminded of the radical difference be- 
tween the Ideal and the Practical, between ancient and 
modern philosophy, and it is to a brief consideration of this 
subject that I now invite your attention. 

Although " Philosophy" as its name indicates, is applied 
to that science which teaches all wisdom, because it loves 
and searches for all wisdom, it did not, until a compara- 
tively recent period, embrace in its studies, the whole 
range of material and immaterial nature. 

Faint glimpses of pregnant thoughts and skeletons of 
grand ideas meet us now and then, but not until the true 
system of planetary motion and the law of gravitation were 
discovered respectively by Galileo and Newton, and the 
profound researches of Bacon were made known, was it re- 
vealed that there is something more than dim and fanciful 
theories to be gleaned from the study of Nature ; not until 
then were the vague ideas of Plato and Aristotle clothed with 
breathing bodies. For ages not a new idea founded upon 
facts was gained. Man sought to fathom the deep things of 
God, but he never used the plummet or the deep sea line. 



11 



In the light of that great Revelation from God to man, 
embodied in the New Testament, three or four hundred 
years after Aristotle's time ; in the presence of the inven- 
tion of printing, fourteen hundred yearsiJ^tePj-tEe old phi- 
losophy, dreamy, shadowy and vague, influenced mankind. 
Its flame burnt feebly, and emitted but a flickering and un- 
certain light. 

Superstition in all its deformity was the religion of the 
masses. Its natural fruits were the Crusades, so remarkable 
for the trials, and sacrifices, and perseverance, and waste 
of blood and treasure of the Christian Nations, in their 
attempts to wrest the Holy Sepulchre from the hand of the 
Moslem. 

But modern philosophy took a wider range. It no lon- 
ger was " meek-eyed" and diffident, but eagle-eyed and 
bold. And although at times it has ventured where " an- 
gels fear to tread," and to attempt the solution of mysteries 
beyond the ken of human reason, it has in the last century 
made tremendous strides in the promotion of civilization, 
in the increase of human comfort, and in the knowledge 
of the laws and the developments of the powers of nature. 

To no man more than to Franklin is the world indebted. 
Born at the time when the Colonies were preparing to 
throw off the shackles of England, he came to his maturity 
when his fellow men could best take advantage of the gar- 
nered stores of his wisdom. Gifted with an eye which 
embraced at once the good of the people and the mysteries 
of science, he was not ashamed to apply its gifts to the 
amelioration of common life. He established in America 
the first literary society, the first philosophical society, the 
first circulating library, the first stove for burning wood 
economically, and the first street lanterns, such as we now 
use. He proved by a multiplicity of experiments the iden- 
tity of lightning and electricity, and brought down harm- 
lessly from the clouds, the bolt that could shiver in pieces 
the wall of adamant. 

His example teaches us, that to die great it is not neces- 



12 



sary to be horn of great ancestors ; that from the humblest 
walks of life — his father a dyer — his uncles dyers and prin- 
ters, and he himself, a setter of types, — it is possible by 
prudence and temperance and industry, to stand before 
kings, and give laws to nations ; that without rich friends, 
in the face of the most appalling obstacles, it is possible to 
do things that the world will admire, and to say things that 
will find a voice in every civilized language under heaven. 
And finally it teaches us, that to he 'a great philosopher, 
something more is meant than to cultivate theoretical 
fancies, and the uncertain speculations of metaphysics ; 
that to do something for one's race, to cope with and slay 
vulgar prejudices, to invent something which, however 
homely, promotes universal comfort and happiness, are the 
greatest achievements to which a life can be devoted. 

In the name of the Franklin Lyceum w^e thus behold a 
most suggestive union of all that is admirable in Franklin, 
the practical thoroughness, the calm investigation, the acute 
logic of Bacon and Locke, with the energy and the depth 
and the vigor of the intellects of Plato and Socrates and 
Aristotle I 

And it is to just such an union that modern civilization 
owes its greatest victories. 

It was not until the human mind, in the light of modern 
philosophy, began to perceive that the fulfiUment of its 
destiny was not embraced in the lives and deaths of a few 
saints and martyrs — of a few kittgs and statesmen; and 
that there was something more in human history than a 
chronological account of the rise and fall of dynasties, and 
the fighting of battles ; in geography, than the boundaries of 
continents and nations ; and in statesmanship, than how to 
o-et the most from the people, and to do the least for them ; 
it was not until then that it began to pass the old land- 
marks and mountain ranges that had stayed its progress, 
and to enter upon the broad and unexplored prairies beyond, 
where the landscape, by its verdure, invited the traveller, 
and the soil by its richness, repaid the toil of the laborer. 



13 



I do not propose, in this sketch, to discuss the causes by 
which the old has been supplanted by the new order of 
things. It is enough for us that God, in his Providence, has 
destroyed the foundations of venerable structures, and has 
opened the eyes of mankind, to new ideas and new modes 
of thought and action^ and has in the brightness of this new 
intelligence, shone upon us, so that every day we can sing 
anthems, with a meaning and enthusiasm before unknown. 

But in the possession of all this light let not man be ar- 
rogant. He can create nothing. His progress is immense, 
considering his own insignificance, but infinitessimally 
small, in view of what still remains unknown. He may 
build the most cunningly devised machine, set on foot the 
most daring enterprise, navigate boldly the yielding air, and 
calculate with certainty the periods of comets and stars ; 
he is still at an infinite distance, catching but feeble 
glimpses of God, and but slightly lifting the curtain which 
conceals from view the undiscovered realms bryond. 

In all that concerns our Relations to God, the civilized 
world, which for centuries before the Reformation (" that 
great insurrection of human intelligence,") had lain in great 
darkness, now with the dav^n of that day and of those prin- 
ciples, which announced to man "the right of private 
judgment in religious concernments;" which introduced 
religion to the laity, whereas before it had been " the ex- 
clusive domain of the ecclesiastical order,^- gradually ad- 
vanced to more rational views ; and the Bible, being read 
by free men, and not lighted by the blaze of faggots, 
began to do its work, in leading to more frequent and closer 
imitations of Christ's life. 

The fear is lest philosophic speculation may usurp the 
weightier claims of Divine Revelation. 

Roger Williams caught a portion of his inspiration from 
this source, and deserting the old authorities, he founded a 
civil government upon the law of Right, taught him by the 
new philosophy. Although many are eager to pluck from 
his memory its brightest chaplet, in Rhode Island its leaves 



14 



will ever be green. Of him, and of others like him, it has 
been well said : " He did not feel as if he had the power 
o'ver the right ; could sway it by his choice, or vary its 
standard by his action ; but it overmastered him, and at the 
same time filled and energized his whole being, brought out 
all the strong sinews of his moral nature, invigorated the 
extensor muscles of his will, intensified and ennobled all 
his powers, exalted and purified all his affections, made 
him a Priest before God and a King among men."* 

In the science of Government, the influence of more 
genial and more healthful views of philosophy is most ob- 
vious. There is 7iow some meaning in the old maxims : 
" The voice of the people is the voice of God ; " " The 
safety of the people is the supreme law." 

In countries which still retain the form of kingly author- 
ity, the people are becoming emancipated from their thral- 
dom, and their voice is being heard and regarded as of a 
^'•power in the ^tateP In this country, on a large and 
fitting scale, the principle of self-government is trying its 
experiment, and our only fear is, that the '■'-immutable 
righf may be forgotten, and that our own errors and follies 
may wreck all our hopes. 

Closely connected with self-government is popular educa- 
tion, which, if barely imagined, was never realized in olden 
times, and under the ancient philosophy, but is now the 
boast of modern governments. The education of the peo- 
ple is felt to be the basis of all true liberty. An enlightened 
people are the most vigilant. The public treasury lavishes 
its wealth in giving the free school to the children of the 
State, who in return for this gift become its most liberal and 
intelligent contributors. 

In Science what miracles of progress has the world seen 
ever since man began to look from the outside into the life 
of things ! 

In some cheerless and lonely chamber, in the midst of tubes 

* Peabody's Oration. 



15 



and retorts and alembics, sat the old alchemist^ with long 
beard, and mantle adorned with mystic characters, watch- 
ing, year after year, the slow action of fire upon the obdu- 
rate mass before him, and hoping that the philosopher's 
stone, by some marvellous accident, might appear at last 
in his crucible — that wonderful substance, whose touch 
should transmute into gold every baser metal. He was the 
favorite child of the old philosophy! Under his guardian- 
ship were placed the secrets of science ! Thrones tottered 
at his nod. He devoted the best years of his life to fruit- 
less experiments for absurd and childish objects, and died 
without accomplishing any good to mankind, excepting the 
lessons taught by his own failures. 

But turn your eyes into the laboratory of the modern 
chemist. Surrounded by the myriad aids to science, no 
longer the peculiar care of kings and princes, arrayed in no 
strange garb, and claiming no supernatural power, a plain 
man, he is busy with practical matters. He is analyzing 
soils and telling us what fertilizers they need. He is rob- 
bing poison of its terrors and prescribing its antidotes. He 
is searching for the noxious elements in the air, in our food 
and in our drinks. He is discerning the difference between 
the healthy and the morbid tissues, and amazes us by the 
extent and accuracy of his discoveries. 

And so the old astrologer ! His business was to watch 
the cold and silent heavens, with his unglazed tube, to tell 
his pj-incely admirers under what planet and sign their 
birth-day came, and to cast the horoscope of their nativities. 
But the stars, rolling in their beauty and order, neither 
taught him lessons of the Almighty's Goodness and Omni- 
potence, nor suggested to him deductions promoting the 
advantage of the human race. 

But now the astronomer can determine with precision 
the future places of the heavenly bodies ; can predict with 
certainty the transits of planets ; pan calculate to a second 
the elements of eclipses ; account for all the strange per- 
turbations of the moon and earth ; and apply all this know- 



16 



ledge to the purposes of navigation and the comfort of 
man, and upon his distant and moving stand-point, dis- 
cover the laws which govern the Universe, and under which 
the " music of the spheres '" is sung. 

A comet, which once was considered to be the presage of 
God's wrath, and of wars, and famine, and pestilence, ca- 
reering through space, unheralded, undirected, and with 
no fixed motion, and so bringing dismay to the beholders, 
has, by the patient investigations of the astronomer, become 
an object upon which we delight to gaze, whose periods and 
orbits are cast, and from which we gather new evidences 
of God's power. 

Everywhere do we behold the triumphs of the human 
mind, emancipated from the old philosophy. It leaps across 
chasms, and rivers, and oceans ; cuts through isthmuses 
and continents ; breaks down the walls that have hitherto 
shut up the most populous nations of the globe; takes the 
spear and tomahawk from the hands of warriors, mitigates 
the horrors of war, and reduces it to a science ; essays to pen- 
etrate the crust of the earth and tells us its age, showing that 
the account of its creation in the Bible is not contradictory 
to the revelations oi geology ; it changes the wliole character 
of the practice of medicine ; with the microscope, it detects 
the inhabitants of all liquids, and the constitution of the 
blood, and proves that the Great Creator stamps upon all 
things his law o^ perfection ; upon the invisible animalculee 
as well as the gigantic mastadon. 

In the words of Macautay, " This modern philosophy has 
lengthened life ; it has mitigated pain ; it has extinguished 
diseases ; it has increased the fertility of the soil ; it has 
given new securities to the mariner ; it has furnished new 
arms to the warrior; it has spanned great rivers and estu- 
aries with bridges of form unknown to our fathers ; it has 
guided the thunderbolt miraculously from heaven to earth ; 
it has lighted up the night with the splendor of the day; 
it has extended the range of human vision ; it has multi- 
plied the power of I he human muscle; it has accelerated 



17 



motion ; it has annihilated distance ; it has facilitated in- 
tercourse ; all friendly offices and dispatch of business ; it 
has enabled man to descend to the depths of the sea ; to 
soar into the air ; to penetrate securely into the noxious 
recesses of the earth ; to traverse the land upon cars which 
whirl along without horses—and the ocean in ships which 
sail against the wind. These are but a part of its fruits — 
and its first fruits. For it is a philosophy which never 
rests ; which has never attained it ; which is never perfect. 
Its law is progress. A point, which yesterday was invisi- 
ble, is its goal tO'da/y, and will be its starting point to-mor- 
row." * 

England, the centre of wealth and energy, is exhibiting 
a new life in her triumphant career. 

France, the nursery of science and the Mecca of students, 
is dazzling us by the number and character of her dis- 
coveries. 

Germany is unfolding to thousands, in her academies, the 
treasures of learning. 

Russia — the great uncivilized — is opening her territo- 
ries to modern research, giving freedom to her serfs, and 
establishing schools and colleges over her vast possessions. 

America, taking into her lap the riches of all nations, is 
pouring forth a flood of civilization to her remotest regions. 

The whole world, like a roused lion, is waking from its 
sleep, and is accomplishing more in a generation than was 
hitherto brought to pass in centuries. 

A comparison between the two philosophies might be 
greatly extended. I might refer, at length, to the immense 
advance in the science of public health, whereby the rava- 
ges of disease are lessened ; to the benevolent acts and 
suggestions relative to the punishment and reformation of 
criminals ; to the rapid increase of knowledge in domestic 
economy ; to the new ideas pertaining to ethnology, geo- 
graphy and agriculture ; and finally to the elevation of 

* Essay on Bacon. 



18 



woman in the social scale, marking as unerringly the ad- 
vance of civilization as the rising quicksilver in the ther- 
mometer marks the increase of heat. 

In what I have said, I would by no means lose sight of 
the demands of a higher education. There is a portion of 
our natures which requires as severe and actual a culture 
as that part which relates to our body and our dealings 
with the world of matter, and that culture let us not heed- 
lessly neglect. 

Let us open our ears and our hearts to the ravishing 
strains of music, which, on a flood of harmony, can bear us 
upward in worship — or calm us in our sorrow — or give 
expression to our most joyous moods. Let us look upon 
the beautiful forms pictured upon the breathing canvas, or 
chiselled in the spotless marble. Let us yield ourselves 
to the influences of architecture, enrich our intellects with 
all that is ennobling and refining in poetry and classic litera- 
ture, and catch inspiration in the woods and fields, and in 
all the richness and variety spread around in the works of 
creation. So that 

Not a breeze 
Flies o'er the meadow ; not a cloud imbibes 
The setting sun's effulgence ; not a strain 
Prom all the tenants of the warbling shade 
Ascends, but whence our bosom can partake 
Fresh pleasure unreproved. — Ahenside. 

But let us at the same time be watchful, that we do not 
emasculate the vigor of our studies, by giving to this undue 
prominence. 

The, mistake of the ancient Greeks consisted in their de- 
votion to things of taste and refinement, to the exclusion 
of practical investigation. Their miracles of high art, in 
their temples and statues, are all that time has left us to 
look upon. Their doctrines of philosophy, upon which so 
much time was spent, and so many gifted intellects wast- 



19 



ed, have been all exploded. Their scientific studies revealed 
little upon which the world could rest its future triumphs. 
Beyond a few lamps, and culinary utensils, and rude tools, 
civilization and the arts of life had made but little progress. 
It is a singular inconsistency, that while they paid the ex- 
actest attention to the best types of nature around them, in 
all that they wrought of beauty in their statues and build- 
ings, they forgot to carry this principle any further. 

Practical philosophy is not alone to be studied. The 
tivo — the ideal and the real — as your name suggests, 
should be cemented together, and together employed in 
rearing the fabric of our daily lives, upon which, as a top- 
stone, those investigations which refine the soul and the 
intellect, with their emotions, and passions, and aspirations, 
and hopes, should be placed. 

The active members of this Lyceum are young men, and 
all that I have said has for them a singular significance. 

What is it to be a young man, in our country and in the 
nineteenth century ? A country where all the forces of life 
are in active operation — whose history is yet unwritten — 
whose glorious deeds were enacted but yesterday — whose 
future is radiant with hope? A country where the mind 
can hardly keep pace with the progress which industry and 
inventive genius are making, and the new conditions of life 
which commerce and increased intercourse are bringing to 
light ? Let your future conduct and your devotion to all 
that is noble and good and true, answer ! 

Childhood has passed by ! Manhood is just seen in the 
distance ! and the period of youth, that valley upon which 
the shadow of the " dark mountains " is just beginning to 
rest, is here. Upon the young men the destiny of this 
country depends. The maturer man may counsel, but the 
young man must act. In his hands is borne the banner, 
and upon his shoulders lies the burden. Think of the re- 
sponsibilities of this period and how much depends upon 
the manner in which this trust is discharged ! 

Let practical acquaintance with all that philosophy 



30 



thrives upon be cultivated, and let each one vindicate in 
his own character the superior claims of the modern to the 
ancient system. 

In the future^ let this evening be the bright prelude to 
energetic and healthy action ! Let the boundaries of your 
individual usefulness be increased ! " Whatsoever your 
hand findeth to do, that do with your might ! " Let each 
one of the members of this Fraternity see how much true 
insight he can gain into the laws of life ! Let him cultivate 
his own powers, confident that the good results upon him- 
self and the community around him will be an abundant 
reward. 

In conclusion^ I can only wish you God-speed, and ex- 
press my hope and belief that in all that you aspire to do, 
and in all that you shall achieve, you will not disappoint 
the expectations of your friends, or prove yourselves un- 
worthy to be members of a society which bears the name 
of Franklin^ and whose purpose is to advance the progress 
of Modern Philosophy ! 



MEMORIES AND FANCIES 



POEM. 



Oh days of youth ! Oh morning hours of Life ! 
Bring back the freshness of the dawn once more ; — 

Ere the flushed brow grew fevered in the strife 
Of mad ambition, — and the young heart bore 
No pilgrim-scrip of cares, no burden sore ; — 

Bring back once more the sweet earth's odorous charm, 
The scent of woods, — the melody of streams, — 

Sunsets, and summer noons, and airs of balm, 
And rapturous hopes, like wandering stars, whose beams 
Flamed up the arching heavens, the Pleiades of dreams. 



Once more I touch the echoing bells of rhyme, 
Yet not with cunning finger, nor the skill 

That woke the preludes of an earlier time. 

When the heart chorussed at its own glad will ; — 
Some forty years have brought their autumn chill,- 

October's frosts are glittering in my hair, — 
The wings of Fancy droop, the harvest-moon 

Is now my star, my inspiration rare, — 

Old Hundred's beat and measure lifts the tune, 
The morn is past, — 't is now Life's sober afternoon. 



92 



Bear with me then — if in my verse the light 
Of other days is but a flickering gleam, — ■ 

The sun is swiftly slanting toward the night, 
Youth's purple ray is now a dwindling beam, 
And shadows drift across fond Memory's dream ; 

My heart pays tribute, mingled song and flower 
And charm of old romance, but ah ! the head 

Has no fair bud of wit to deck the hour, — 

It brings but withering sprigs and leaves instead, 
Its crown-imperials gone, — its morning-glories fled 



Once more I touch the echoing bells of rhyme, — ■ 
A strange enchantment fills the magic chime ; 
Each pulsing accent trembling on the tongue, 
Brings back the golden hours when Life was young ;. 
Wildered in dreams, the wondering fancy strays 
Down the dim slopes of half-forgotten days, — 
The earth grows green again, — the skies are fair, 
A charm like music floats upon the air, — 
Those early hopes that withered long ago, 
Shake from their frosted leaves the autumn snow, — - 
The blood long since grown dull, with quickening start 
Leaps in the sparkling channels of the heart, 
The olden memory wakes the olden joy, 
The past returns, — the man becomes a boy. 



Roll back, ye gathering mists that shroud the eye,' 
Unfold your curtains, — clouds of Memory ! 
Let Fancy dream, — the raptured dream recalls 
One hallowed spot where still the sunshine falls : 
The school house porch ! the lengthening colonnade ! 
Youth's academic grove and classic shade : — 



23 



The blest retreat where Science sat — a queen ! 

Throned on her huge electrical machine ; — 

The bower of Art ! whose consecrated dust 

Crowned the smooth head of many a white-robed bust ; — 

The Mount Parnassus ! on whose blooming top 

The laurel grew its never-failing crop, 

And Wit and sober Wisdom, side by side. 

Walked like the bridegroom and his blushing bride. 

Come back, ye short lived hours ! a beam of hght 
Breaks through the deepening shadows of the night ; — 
On Waterman's green hill, one window pane 
Shines like a glowworm down the storied lane, — 
The closing week is sounding its farewell, 
Seven solemn strokes upon the Baptist bell, 
And many an iron tongue repeats the chime. 
Pealed by the ancient sentinel of Time. 
Low, drowsy murmurings still linger where 
The " Great Bridge " leans its arms on " Market Square ; 
Far up Westminster street the glittering rays 
Of myriad sign-boards pierce the evening haze, 
And gilded symbols of the sons of Trade, 
Deck the white cloud of many a " Cheapside " shade, — 
Those stars of calico, that sing and shine, 
Bright Mars ! sweet Venus ! in the dry goods line. 
Bandanna comets streaming on the gale, 
w And flags that dim the " Great Bear's" flaming tail. 

Come back, ye short-lived hours ! the school-house hall 

Eises once more responsive to my call ; — 

How bright the vision, as the wondering eye 

Peers through the mists of twenty years gone by ! 

Still on the wall the Indian's birch canoe 

And rude-carved war-club meet the astonished view ; 

The head of Franklin holds its honored place. 

The genial smile still beaming on the face ; — 



24 



The Cabinet still broods witli varnished wings 

Above its nest of rare and curious things, — 

The ostrich egg, — the fish-hook, — and the shell, — 

The sculptured chamois from the land of Tell, 

The Pine-tree shilling with its quaint device, 

Type of the May Flower churning through the ice, — 

The bird of wisdom and its head of straw, 

Type of some human heads whose nod is law, — 

The spider with its feelers long and limp, 

Bottled and labelled like a pickled shrimp. 

And sprawling lizards with their fleshless legs. 

Put up in jars like cucumbers in kegs. 

How bright the vision ! although many a year 

Has dimmed the side-lamps and the chandelier ; 

Familiar faces o'er the table lean, 

Vaughan sits by Smith, and Nightingale by Greene, 

Hamlin is there, and patriarchal Shove 

Extends the circle round the tapering stove, — 

On Cushing's lip still lurks the smothered jest, 

Poising and quivering like a lance in rest, — 

The blood of Spain in Urmeneta speaks. 

And the rich blush still tints his olive cheeks. 

What form is that which fills the high-backed chair 

Behind the desk, — that form of solemn air ! 

'T is Bunnell's self — who o'er the scene presides, 

Calms the fierce winds and smooths the swelling tides, — 

"' Order ! " he cries — the mirth-provoking joke 

Dies on the lips as if Lycurgus spoke, — 

" Order ! " he cries — the awful voice of fate 

Stills the tumultuous Warsaw of debate. 

The cracking wais,t-band bows to the decree, 

And Wit's torpedo ends in a fusee. 

'Tis gone ! 'tis gone ! that silvery lock of hair. 
Just down the aisle amongst the bonnets there, 
That sober brow where Time has left his trace, 
That wrinkle slowly stealing o'er the face. 



26 



Break the sweet dream -whose kindling raptures cast 
A glow of beauty o'er the fading past, 
And Fancy, with her wing upon her breast, 
Drops like the lark, — and flutters to her nest. 

Where are the Platos of our youthful prime, 
Wise in their lore and in their speech sublime ? 
Where are the Newton s, sages of the spheres, 
Who tracked the stars in boyhood's cassimeres ? 
Where are the Websters, thundering in debate, 
Fair buds and opening blossoms of the state ? 
Where are the Byrons of that earlier day 
Whose sprouting verse foretold the leaf of bay ? 



Ah ! it is sad, most sad to think how soon 
The ray of morning hastens to the noon, — 
The sports of childhood hardly are begun 
Ere the shout ceases and the game is done, 
And the rude boy who laughed away each care, 
Starts at the spectre of his first gray hair. 

Still in my heart the olden fire is warm. 

Still lingers on my sight each face and form, 

Still the same voices echo in my ear, 

As if the same remembered lips were here, — 

But where are they, — those brave-souled pioneers, 

Whose eyes undimmed beheld the march of years ? 

Who fleshed their maiden swords in mimic strife. 

And deemed they trod the Bunker Hills of life, 

And in hot blood like ancient Pistol cried, 

" The world 's mine oyster," and the shell beside. 

Bard, Orator, Philosopher, and Sage, — 

Dramatic memories ! phantoms of the stage ! 

Plato no longer sits in Wisdom's seat. 

The cool Cephissus flows through Water street, 



26 



Cotton, not virtue, now the Sage's theme, 
His morning vision and his evening dream. 
Behold, the orator, whose ardent glow 
Burned over Linden when the sun was low, — 
Who with fierce gesture and terrific yell 
Described the accident when Csesar fell; — 
A grocer now — the rounded period swells 
Behind the counter where he buys and sells, — 
There Golden chops like lips ft)r him unclose 
The buds of Pekoe and the China rose, — 
There Bucksport herrings, orioles of the sea, 
Inspire his tongue and point the simile, — 
Broad tubs like butter-cups their bloom impart, 
And Stilton wakes the language of the heart, 
No Philip now disturbs his unctuous peace, 
Goshen his Athens, — and his land of Greece. 

Ah, gentle bard ! Apollo's favorite son ! 

Still dost thou wear the wreath thy boyhood won ; — 

What though like crows the cares of merchandise 

Boost in the corners of thy soberer eyes, 

A nightingale imprisoned in thy breast, 

The stanza flutters underneath thy vest, 

Song, ode, and epic pipe around thy brain, 

Like quails and blackbirds whistling in the grain, — 

Older in years, — in heart forever young, — 

A nest of swallows hides behind thy tongue. 

And thou too, Newton, kinsman of the stars, 

And like great Chow-Chow, son-in-law of Mars, 

Blackstone is now thy central sphere of light, 

And " Ames and Angell " orbs that rule the night ;— 

No planet-gazer now — thy fairest sky 

Is arched and rounded in a wife's blue eye, 

The constellations of the liquid dome, 

Those fat young cherubs, — asteroids of home. 



37 



Oh, circling yeai's ! oh, Harlequins of tinae ! 

Smite with your wands these cadences of rhyme,— ^ 

In vain the lips each trick and change rehearse. 

The wonder spurns the measure of the verse ; — 

It seems but yesterday — the vanished year, 

The moss-grown school house and the boy are here, — 

Presto ! the year is gone, the vision flies, 

A new creation opens on the eyes, — 

The ancient hall extends its modest floor, 

Arches its walls and carves its lofty door. 

On its broad front the old baptismal name, 

Its proud armorial and its crest of fame ; — 

Boyhood to manhood leaps, its primal shoots 

Of ties and gaiters bursting into boots ; — 

The record-book its scattered leaves has swelled 

Around the names its first thin pages held. 

Until its covers open with a sweep 

Like some huge Bible bound in quarto sheep ; — 

And Franklin's bust, that venerable head 

Whose features still their living sun-light shed. 

Touched with the pride of years expands and grows, 

Sprouts into coat-flap, pantaloons and hose. 

Leaps from its bracket and with stately march 

Plants the broad foot beneath the springing arch. 

Still leading in the van with iron tread, 

Great captain-general and the column's head. 

Oh ! blame me not, although my song may seem 
Too long to linger o'er a pleasant dream, — • 
This festive hour that bids me stand to-night 
Amid these beaming smiles — this blaze of light, — 
Brings back the spring-time of the heart, and weaves 
The bloom of myrtles with its faded leaves ;— 
The scenes of Memory once more are here. 
The voice of Memory wakes the drowsy ear. 
The olden feeling sparkling through the brain 
Like old Madeira warms me up again ; — 



28 



O'er Fancy's lip the odorous bubble steals, 
The swimming head in glorious frenzy reels, — 
And the grave tongue still babbles of the past, 
Like " sweet Jack FalstafF" babbling to the lasta 



Blame not the heart, if o'er some vanished hour, 

Or buried joy, it stoops to pluck a flower ; — 

The daisy has its voice nor should we spurn 

The brier that shades the " Angel " and the " Urn ; "- 

Fancies and facts like cousins are allied, 

These the fresh buds and those the catnip dried ;— - 

Maxims may flourish from a bulbous shoot, 

The tulip wears an onion at its root, — 

In Wisdom's garden many a cabbage-head 

Shares with the cabbage-rose the nuptial bed, 

The bearded sage and venerable thyme 

Utter their precepts to sweet beats of rhyme. 

The yellow cowslip decks the sober sod, 

The bean's white blossom marks the bursting pod, 

The pumpkin, envious of the sun-flower's bliss, 

Turns its fat cheek to woo the day-god's kiss,— 

Carrots of gold like golden carats shine 

Beneath the red cups of the columbine. 

The old potato, with a watery eye. 

Bends o'er the violet and seems to sigh. 

And many a trumpet-creeper winds its horn 

Beside the listening ears of Indian corn. 

You smile, — 't is well — ^but in this masquerade 
Of dreams and memories, of light and shade, 
Each crested metaphor that takes the field 
Bears like a Red Cross knight the spear and shield. 
And Mirth's gay couplets capering o'er the plain. 
With loosened martingale and dangling rein, 
Still wear their pennons at the saddle bow, 
And flaunt the " eagle " stooping at the " crow." 



Q9 



What is the poem if the limping line 

Falters and faints and dies without a sign, — 

A showman's squib that sputters in the dark, — 

A flash that speeds no bullet to its mark ; — 

Rose-leaves and rhetoric no longer serve, 

The age demands the muscle and the nerve, — ■ 

Some sculptured moral in cast iron verse. 

Some stout-ribbed truth — a head-stone or a hearse ; — 

" Facts, sir ! " cries Bumble, " facts are stubborn things ; 

Away with top-knots and your painted wings, 

Your fancy goods may catch the village maid, 

But wiser owls want no such truck in trade ;— 

Let your Augustuses with plaintive toot 

Warble and whimper on the evening flute, 

And let your Marthas sigh among the trees 

Until the sigh is lengthened to a sneeze ; — 

Better that honest note when chanticleer 

Winds his shrill bugle in the sleeping ear ; 

Wiser the sober hen that shakes her leg 

And cackles only o'er a new-laid egg." 

And so the grim statistic chokes the trope, — 

The olive-garland yields to olive soap ; — 

The laurel breathes no perfume of romance 

Its dry leaves wither on a broken lance ; — 

O'er Alnwick's crumbling walls and arches gray 

The mosses creep — the mosses of decay, — 

The last sad minstrel mourning o'er his lyre, 

Hangs on a willow tree the rusted wire. 

Whilst fair Calliope with frenzied scream 

Chaunts " Farewell, Dinah ! " through her pipes of steam. 



Mark the shrewd man of business, as you meet 
His portly presence in the busy street ! 
No nosegay blossoms at his button-hole. 
No fond imagination warms his soul, 



30 

Facts, — sober facts are "written on Ms hat, 

And Thrift inspires his eloquent cravat, — 

For him the orbits of life's aims and ends 

Eound in the circle of his dividends ; — 

Type of the age the morning paper gives 

The daily food on which he feeds and lives, — 

In vain does Irving with Promethean art 

Breathe o'er his page the sparkles of his heart, — • 

In vain does Goldsmith paint the living scene. 

And muse in sadness o'er the village green, — 

A man of facts — no fancies move his tears, 

Or stir the muffled drums that shield his ears, — • 

The evening fireside, with its cheerful blaze, 

Sends to his soul no sympathetic rays, — 

The Sunday text falls harmless on his head 

As if an acorn tumbled down instead ; 

No pleasant memories light up the past, 

No pleasant hopes their purple radiance cast ; 

Facts are his motto, and his ribs of oak 

Close round a heart-beat like a hammer stroke ;— 

Sweeter to him the rumble of the cars. 

Than all the fabled music of the stars, — 

Sweeter to him than daffodil or rose, 

The savory bond that smells beneath his nose, 

Wall street his heaven, and the prosperous West, 

The promised land in wild-cat money blest, — 

His New Jerusalem of fatted swine 

And calves and statesmen — monsters in their line< 

Perhaps my hand, unskillful to unite 
The various colored shades of dark and light, 
May sketch the picture somewhat bold in hue, 
The red too red, — the blue too deeply blue. 
The mouth too broad, the nose somewhat awry, 
And it may be too sharp about the eye ; — • 
Still though the features lack the painter's grace, 
The brush of Truth has swept across the face, — ■ 



31 



Add but the varnish and the gilded frame, 
And call the portrait by another name, 
The likeness, although awkward, stands for you 
Who laughed just now when Bumble got his due. 

Start not, but tell me if the swift-winged hours 

Breathe in their flight for you the breath of flowers, — 

Tell me if in your path the hedge-rows bear 

The buds of joy, or shrivelled stems of care, — 

Speak ! do ye not too often pass with scorn 

The modest rose and pluck the bleeding thorn ? 

Too often grasp the dry and bitter root. 

And spurn the bough that bends with Wisdom's fruit ? 

Too often clutch the old potato vine, 

Nor heed the grape's sweet lips that drip with wine ? 

The portrait stands for you, if you foro-et 

The charm of life amidst its toil and sweat ; 

This world is not all bricks and straw, — the hand 
Whose cunning fashioned what its wisdom planned. 
Planted its pillars mid the sea's bright spars, 
And sprung its dome among the burning stars ; 
This pictured earth,— this floating ball of light. 
Orb of the morning,— golden lamp of night,— 
Was built and rounded, sapphired frieze and arch, 
By Him who tracked the planets' glorious march,— 
He touched the purplings of the dawn and swung 
Those flaming spheres on airy poises huno-. 
He smote the hills with crimson fire, and o-ave 
Its crest of diamonds to the ocean's wave 
Flung o'er the meadows rainbows from the skies 
And stretched the clouds in colored canopies. 
So in the heart the same reflected globe 

Wears like the earth its many tinted robe. 

There the white pillars of the mornino- rise 
And beams of sunset stain the evenino- skies 



33 

In blazing curves the firmament expands 
And bends in beauty over seas and lands, — 
Green tents of summer woods extend their shades, 
And rays of autumn weave their scarlet braids. 
Each fair scene clothed in hues from nature caught 
And orbed in visions of prismatic thought. 



Wear'st thou a heart by God's own seal impressed, 
Or does a gizzard throb beneath thy breast ? 
Say does the lazy muscle only feel 
When cramps and stitches through its fibres steal ? 
Chaunts its sweet harp no music to the ear. 
No song of love nor hymn of lofty cheer ? 
Paints it no pictures to the raptured eye. 
Dreams it no dreams of hope or memory ? 



Then die — and if kind nature spares thy breath, 
" Old Sands of Life " will help the hand of death ;- 
Take some stout drug, or herb, or both combined, 
Nor longer live a libel on mankind. 



But if thou shrinkest at the grim idea 
Of shroud and pall and melancholy bier, — 
If still thou clingest to this mortal span. 
Rouse thy dead soul and be a living man ! 

Shall nature write her morals on the flower. 
And plead in vain to every passing hour ? 
Still shall the careful farmer sow and reap, 
Dull as the turnips in his sprouting heap ? 
And still the son of trafiic groan and toil, 
Blind as the beetle burrowing in the soil ? 
Forbid it reason ! 't is the voice of God 
That shakes the hills and trembles in the sod ! 



33 



Speak, ye dumb lips ! thou iron-breasted Paul ! 

Speak from thy sacred niche in yonder wall ; 

Again, " Poor Eichard," move that silent tongue, 

Where Wit once nestled, and where Wisdom clung; 

Preach to the crowds that jostle through the street. 

Those restless heads, — those ever-hurrying feet ; — 

Fixed in thy pulpit, many a passer by 

Shall turn to thy mild face his wandering eye, 

And as he checks his step, his startled ear 

May catch the accents kings once paused to hear : 

Then shall thy honest voice again impart 

Its golden maxim to the listening heart, — 

Then shall thy faithful life its lustre cast 

O'er the green pathways where thy footsteps passed,-— 

Then shall thy life's bright close impress the truth 

That lengthened years may still be crowned with youth. 

And on the sunset of the old man's death, 

An " Indian Summer " breathe its fragrant breath,— 

Sweet memories lingering o'er the mouldering clay, 

The rose still blossoming above decay. 



Oh, days of youth ! oh, morning hours, come back ! 

Illume the shadows of these gathering years ! 
The beaten path is dim,— Life's opening track 

Uncertain stretches dark with doubts and fears •— 
Come back and shine upon this " vale of tears," 

Crowning the hUl-tops with the break of day. 
And bring that bright philosophy which cheers 

The steps that falter in a weary way, — 

And deck the wintry earth in aU the pride of May. 



34 

Oh, memories and hopes of vanished days ! 

Those cherished days, when bud and blossom rare 
Grew in the heart's fair gardens, — and the rays 

Of new-born summers filled the perfumed air, — 
Breathe gently on the saddened lids of care 

The bloom of euphrasy, — the purple light 
Of dreams and old romances, that still wear 

The blessed charm which mocks decay and blight, 

And pours auroral beams upon Life's closing night. 



DEDICATION OF LYCEUM HALL. 



COMPILED PBOM REPORTS IN THE PROVIDENCE DAILY JOURNAL AND POST. 



EXEECISES IN THE HALL. 

The new rooms of the Franklin Lyceum are in the third 
story of the iron-front block on Westminster street, named, 
in honor of the association, the " Lyceum Building." The 
hall is a beautiful room thirty-seven feet square, and twen- 
ty-one feet high, surrounded on three sides by a light, self- 
sustaining gallery. Connected with this hall is a reading 
room forty feet long, well lighted and handsomely furnished, 
and in every particular adapted to the uses of the Lyceum. 
Conspicuously, in a freestone niche, forming a part of the 
front of the building, the Lyceum have placed a life-size 
statue of their patronymic philosopher. 

These rooms were formally opened and dedicated to 
their future use, on Friday afternoon, Nov. 19, 1858. The 
association met at three o'clock in the old hall, and at 4 
o'clock formed in four divisions, under the direction of Col. 
S. H. Wales, as Chief Marshal, assisted by Messrs, Park- 
hurst, Bodfish, Vinton, Brown, Arnold, Guild, Chapin and 
Calder as aids, and, accompanied' by the American Brass 
Band, marched up Weybosset to Mathewson street, and 



36 



down Westminster street to the Lyceum Building. The 
procession halted in front of the building, when the statue 
of Franklin, which had been previously placed in the niche 
over the main entrance, was uncovered and received a 
musical salute from the Band, and three hearty cheers from 
the assembly of some thousands that crowded the streets 
The members then passed up into the new Hall. 

The Band, stationed in the gallery, opened the exercises 
in the hall, after which L. C. Ashley, Esq., Chairman of 
the Building Committee, presented the keys of the rooms 
to the President of the Lyceum, with the following appro- 
priate remarks : 

Mr. President, and Gentlemen of the Lyceum : 

Just at the close of the last winter, a building committee of five persons 
was appointed by you in whose hands was placed the task of preparing 
new apartments for the occupation of the Lyceum, of procuring and 
placing in a proper position in the front of the new building a bust or statue 
of Dr. Franklin, and of arranging, furnishing and decorating the new 
rooms so as to render them a suitable and appropriate place of resort 
for our society. Between that time and the present, your committee 
have been steadily endeavoring to carry out the wishes of the Lyceum ; 
and they are now here, before the approach of another winter, to receive you 
in the apartments prepared under their direction. As chairman of that 
committee, it devolves upon me to greet you to-day and bid you welcome 
to these halls. 

In a society like our own, there naturally exists a variety of opinion in 
regard to the proper mode 9f constructing, furnishing and arranging the 
rooms in which all are so deeply interested ; but, judging from the ex- 
pressions which have reached us from a large number of members, it is not 
too much to say, perhaps, in behalf of the committee, that there is reason 
to believe that their work, so far as it has been completed, proves generally 
acceptable to the society. 

The committee have not only considered their task a delicate one, but 
have felt that they were acting as the agents of the Lyceum, in a most im- 
portant matter. Not that the mere circumstance of their removal to more 
commodious and comfortable halls is of much consequence in itself, but it 
is of great importance when considered as the indication of a new and 
vio-orous impulse in our society — as an evidence of the progress which it 
has made and is making — of its strong vitality, and the confidence of its 
members in its continued success and permanence. 



37 



As a matter of justice, I desire to make here a public acknowledgment 
that the results which have thus far been accomplished by the committee, 
are to be chiefly ascribed to the energetic gentlemen whom you have asso- 
ciated with me in this matter. We had hoped to have finished our whole 
task to-day, but circumstances within the knowledge of all have prevent- 
ed. The furniture designed for these rooms had been, upon plans adopted 
by the committee, manufactured carefully and tastefully by Anthony, 
Denison & Co., and, as we all know, was destroyed by the late disastrous 
conflagration. We have made arrangements to have it replaced, and it will 
soon be in readiness. We cannot therefore point to-day to a full comple- 
tion of our labors. But thus much has been done — the Lyceum Building 
has taken its place among the elegant and substantial structures of our city 
— the name with which you have christened it is riveted in letters of iron 
upon its lofty front — the statue of our great philosopher stands above its 
portal — the apartments designed for your use are prepared to receive you 
to-day — and, Mr. President and gentlemen of the Lyceum, as the repre- 
sentative of your committee, it is my most pleasant duty to welcome you 
here to-day, and to place in your hands, sir, the keys ot these halls. 

The President, N. Van Slyck, Esq., in accepting the 
keys, responded as follows : 

Mr. Chairman : 

It is my pleasant duty, as President of the Franklin Lyceum, to receive 
from your committee, through you, sir, the possession of this beautiful hall, 
and on the behalf of this body to return to your committee, through you, 
their thanks for the satisfactory manner in which your duty has so far been 
performed. I will further add, and when I do so, I feel that I express the 
mind of every member of the Lyceum, that the balance of your duty will 
be performed in an equally satisfactory manner. 

It is, however, within my knowledge, and more so than in that of any 
other outsider of your committee, how difficult, arduous and multifarious 
those duties have been, as well as how devotedly, attentively and well those 
duties have been met and performed ; and it is but common justice to your 
committee that I should make this public acknowledgment of these facts. 

And now, sir, in receiving from you the emblem of our possession, 
let me further ask you to go on and complete your work, which is only 
incomplete by reasoti of the great casualty which our city in common with 
ourselves has so recently suffered, bearing with you the great acknow- 
ledgments of our revered institution. 

Gentlemen of the Franklin Lyceum : — It is my proud privilege to con- 
gratulate you upon the great and still growing progress of our body, of 
which these exercises are its visible proof. It is but a few years since the 



38 



origin of our association, since the founders of our body passed the hours 
of their sessions in offices and garrets, or -wherever without much expense 
they could meet ; since the members thereof could be counted by units, 
whilst now you have but to look about you to appreciate its growth. 

How short is the time since the little acorn was planted in this genial soil, 
and now we see the great oak, spreading over our whole city with a bough 
over every family within its precincts. 

How much have we to acknowledge to the Great Founder of all good 
for the fostering care that has been evmced towards us, and how heartily 
ought we to acknowledge that obligation. 

Let it be with this feeling of gratitude that we join with him who has 
kindly consented to make for us this acknowledgment, as well as to petition 
for a continuance of the divine favor. 

You will now attend to prayer by the Eev. Augustus Woodbury. 

The Prayer of Inauguration was then offered by S,ev. 
Mr. Woodbury. 

Hon. William M. Rodman followed with a humorous 
sketch in prose and verse of the early history of the 
Lyceum, and presented an early record book of the institu- 
tion that had been given up as hopelessly lost. Other 
addresses were made by Messrs. A. Dailey, H. Lippitt, 
Thos. a. Doyle, W. A. Weeden, Allen Greene, 
Chas. E. Boone, P. B. Stiness, Jr., E. A. Geeene, and 
R. E. Hamlin, occupying the time until the horn* for pro- 
ceeding to the church. 

EXERCISES IN THE CHUECH. 

At six and a half o'clock. Dr. Hall's Church was filled 
by the members of the Lyceum and their invited guests. 
After music by the American Brass Band, the Throne of 
Grace was addressed by Rev. Dr. Hall. The Band gave 
another of their beautiful airs, when President Van Slyck 
introduced as the orator of the evening, Francis E. Hop- 
pin, Esq., who proceeded to deliver the eloquent Oration 
which is printed in the foregoing pages. 

The Oration was followed by a Poem, pronounced by 
Henry C. Whitaker, Esq., which musical and appropri- 
ate gem is also printed in the preceding pages. 



THE SUPPER. 

The dedicatory exercises concluded with a supper in 
Raih'oad Hall, prepared in a most liberal and satisfactory 
manner by Messrs. L. H. Humphreys & Co. Plates were 
laid for nearly four hundred guests, and the seats were 
all taken. Between one and two hundred of the guests 
were ladies. 

After the " cloth was removed," figuratively speaking, 
N. Van Slyck, Esq., the President, called the company to 
order, and addressed to them a few remarks in congratula- 
tion for the present and in review of the past, and thus con- 
tinued : 

It would be superfluous for me to refer anew to our history, our growth, 
our bright anticipations of the future ; to remind you that from the count 
by units we now number our members by hundreds ; that every hearthstone 
in our goodly city is reached by our influence ; that every lap has gathered 
of our fruits. 

There is another and a pleasing change seen in this " Franklin Lyceum 
supper," a sight never before seen in our history. Heretofore we have, 
from the character of our entertainments, been termed a " Bachelors' So- 
ciety ;" but however strong we have proved in other respects, yet have so 
many of our brethren been shorn, like one of old, by the blandishments 
of her whom now he boasts as wife, that now we behold sitting at this so- 
cial board, as quietly as if always there, the graceful forms and smiling 
faces of the women of that city noted for their beauty, and adorned as only 
they know how to adorn themselves. 

Let me welcome you, women of Providence, to our feast. Let me ask 
your smiles for our efibrts. Let me beseech you to hold dear our Lyceum, 
and those of you who have not already made fast to a manly member of 
our association, let me advise you in all disintereetedness and earnestness, 
to secure one within such time that no lonely hearts may again sit at such 
a board for want of a fair hand it may call its own. 

We welcome you, one and all — welcome you to our cheer and invite you 
to take each your part in the concluding exercises of the day ; and when 
you leave us, we hope each may do so with affections more strongly 
drawn towards our body, and with heartfelt wishes for its success. 

And now, it is my pleasing duty to introduce to you one who will soon 
so win his way to your hearts, and so draw from you genial thoughts and 
feelings, that any description of himself would be superfluous. I present 
to you, as the toastmaster of the evening, Cyrus G. Dyer, Esq. 



40 



Mr. Dyer received an old friend's greeting from the 
Lyceum, to which he responded in his inimitably happy 
manner, and then proceeded, as toastmaster, to announce 
the regular sentiments, and call up the speakers : 

1. The President of the United States — All honor to the Chief whose 
proudest boast still is — " I am an American citizen." 

Music hy the Band — " Hail to the Chief." 

F. W. Miner, Esq., responded to this sentiment, as 
follows : 
Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen ; 

It seems, sir, unfortunately to have fallen to my lot to respond to this 
sentiment, and although it would have been far better falling from the 
lips of some one of these eminent gentlemen who are to come after, 
" the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose," still, sir, in 
offering my humble response, I shall but perform a duty incumbent alike 
upon the lowliest as well as the most exalted, who glory in the name of 
American citizens. Surely, sir, there never has existed within the borders 
of this wide spreading republic a more illustrious example of what an 
American youth may achieve than that of the present Chief Magistrate 
of this country. Born in a log cabin amid the rocky gorges of the 
AUeghanies, cradled in poverty, and compelled from the force of a 
stern necessity to struggle against all its bitter trials, we find him, at the 
early age of thirty, filling one of the most honorable and useful stations 
within the gift of his fellow citizens. Few men in this country have 
served the people for so long a period of time. Eor half a century has 
he devoted all his energies and great talents to the performance of ar- 
duous public duties. I repeat it, sir, for fifty years he has freely bestowed 
upon his country the rich gifts of patriotism and wisdom ; the glowing en- 
ergies of early manhood, and the maturer counsels of an honorable old age 
have alike been laid at her feet. However much, sir, our patriotic vision 
may be affected by the mists of party feeling and political preference, still 
as Americans, all under the protection of the sapie constitution, which, with 
all its faults, has accomplished more for suffering and down-trodden human- 
ity than any other human institution earth ever saw ; and all sharing alike 
the benefits or evils that may result from public actions, we cannot with- 
hold a feeling of respect for that American, who, by the unaided force of 
his own indomitable energy, coupled with an untiring industry, has filled 
every place to which an American citizen may aspire, and has filled them 
all with dignity to himself and honor to his country. I give you, sir — 

The Franklin Lyceum — The raw material from which Presidents are 
manufactured. 



41 



2. The State of Rhode Island — Doesticks boasted that he could walk 
around it before breakfast ; but a hostile army could not march across it in 
a twelvemonth. 

Music — " Old Bristol." 



His Excellency the Governor having been detained by- 
illness, Col. C. C. Van Zandt, Speaker of the House of 
Representatives, made a capital speech in response for 
Rhody, in which he playfully alluded to an idea that 
had haunted him day and night, and which he intended to 
embody in the form of a motion at the January session, to 
wit : that in view of the present expansive style of female 
attire, the motto on her coat of arms be changed from 
"Hope" to " Hoop." The Colonel complimented the merry 
ringing of the poem and the eloquence of the oration; 
referred to the Franklin statue, to the old Franklin press in 
Newport, to the honored characteristics of Old Ben himself, 
and closed with the following sentiment : 

The Past — the Present — the Future — We live in the Present for the 
Future, and we love the Past because it has Ben. 



3. The City of Pi-ovidence — Statistics prove that in pecuniary wealth, 
she is excelled by few. Occular demonstration shows that in wealth of 
woman's lovliness she is equaled by none. 

Music — " Sweet Home." 

Hon. Wm. M. Rodman, the Mayor, responded substan- 
tially as follows : 

By the law of my position, I am frequently called upon to respond to 
sentiments in recognition of our city, but few occasions could arise when 
I should perform the duty imposed upon me more cheerfully than this, 
which calls us together this evening. 

When, sir, we look back through the long paths of the history of civi- 
lization, when we look upon the rude Briton in his hut of bark and skins, 
without window, without chimney, reft ot everythino- which ministers to 
elevation and refinement, and then look upon London in all itu beauty, 
grandeur and advancement, when we contrast the one with the other, we 
can hardly believe that such an oak has grown from an acorn snarled and 
§^ ° S 



42 



misshapen as the one from which it sprang • and thus it is around the woi-ld. 
The present is ever better than the past, and although nations have arisen 
and fallen again to decay, although civilization has relapsed into barbarism, 
still the retrograde has seldom, if ever, been entire. Steadily onward 
rolls the car of intellectual and moral progress, now advancing, now retreat- 
ing ; yet steadily and persistently the world moves onward to a higher life. 
In the world of natural science how beautifully is this illustrated in the 
march of Cuvier and Agassiz. How cheerfully is it recorded in the edu- 
cational march of our city. A few years since, our people felt that a great 
result had been achieved when the humblest branches were taught in our 
common schools ; but to-day, thank Heaven, our schools, and 1 say it with 
grateful pride, are 

" Good enough for the richest. 
Cheap enough for the poorest." 

And thus may they continue to be, gardens of intellectual culture, where 
the gentle dews of knowledge may descend on all ; and thus may the cause 
of education advance, until our present ultimates become the starting 
points of those who shall succeed us ; until the dull and heavy processes of 
labor shall pass away, and our present attainments appear like alphabetical 
readings in the future of our progress. And in the history of intellectual 
progress in our city, how peculiarly interesting is an occasion like this ! 

How marked was the propriety of the adoption of the name of Franklin 
Lyceum, for a Society originated for the purpose for which ours was in- 
tended ; for Benjamin Franklin was the first man in the history of the 
world to establish debating clubs for discussion and mutual improvement, 
and by their aid the whole character of our nation has been elevated and 
strengthened. A mechanic, he taught the artisan and workingman that 
self-reliance is the keystone of the arch of manly and heroic success. 

As a model of temperance and manly daring, it was well to adopt his 
name. Known among his fellow printers of London, in their disapproval 
of his course, by the name of the " Water American," he added an unre- 
cognized laurel to his wreath of fame ; and he who thus dares to stand amid 
such surroundings, deserves the name of benefactor to his race. 

As a boy, as a man, a philosopher, a patriot and statesman, you named 
yourselves the Franklin Lyceum ; and now, after a varied existence of 
more than a quarter of a centurj^, you have this day given to our city its 
first memorial statue — the statue of Benjamin Franklin. And as often as 
you look upon that art-embodied form of one of nature's noblest sons, call 
to mind his conflicts, awaken memories of his triumphs, and learn " that he 
who is dihgent in business shall stand before kings." 

By the analytical powers of his inductive mind, he grasped from nature 
a power as subtle as human thought, fleet as the wing of the lightning, and, 
said the dying Arago, all " the adaptations of electricity are Franklin's, 
and every new application of it is only another stone added to his perpet- 



43 



ual monument ;" and these monuments now surround tlie world. Over 
mountains, under oceans, crossing deserts, leaping valleys, the electric cur- 
rent bears the thoughts of man, outspeeding time and annihilating space, 
and as by the genius of Franklin all this was evolved, this triumph achieved, 
so may the Franklin Lyceum develop by its young electric life those pow- 
ers which shall be messages of light to all lands, to all nations, and now 
henceforth, when we look upon yonder statue, may we be inspired with the 
hope that the children of this city, as they pass along and look thereon, 
may learn that there is no such word as fail, in any manly and noble pur- 
pose ; and as his voice was the first to direct the insertion in our nation's 
declaration of Independence, " with a firm reliance on Divine Providence," 
so may they and we ever learn to acknowledge an entire dependence upon 
Him in whom alone resideth all wisdom, goodness, power, and that the 
truest manhood bows most reverently before his throne. 
I give you as a sentiment : 

The Franklin Lyceum — May it be a central point from which shall 
emanate the fruits of science, literatui'e, religion — science to elevate, lit- 
erature to refine, and religion to purify the soul. 

4. The Orator of the Day — 

" When lie speaks, 
The air, a chartered Ubertine, is still, 
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences." 

Music — " The Summer Night." 



F. E. HoppiN, Esq., in responding, referred to the culi- 
nary arrangements of the ancients, which were sometimes 
prepared without regard to cost, and closed with the fol- 
lowing : 

The Philosophy of Plate- ! 

5. The Poet of the Day. 
Music — " Auld Lang Syne." 

In consequence of indisposition, Mr. Whitaker was not 
present to respond. 

6. The Past Members of the Lyceum — Their labors smoothed for us the 
pathway to success — their names will ever be held in grateful remem- 
brance. 

Music — " Old Folks at home." 



44 



Chas, H. Parkhurst, Esq., one of the Judges of the 
Court of Magistrates, responded, and kept the tables in a 
roar by the many happy allusions to scenes occuring during 
his early connection with the Lyceum, and by the faithful 
portraits he drew of some of the prominent members. In 
conclusion he proposed : 

Cyrus G. Dyer — The always Poet of the Lyceum. 

7. The New Lyceum Building — May it be as enduring as the memory 
of the sage whose statue adorns its front. 

Music — A Polka- 

L. C. Ashley, Esq., the Chairman of the Building 
Committee, was called upon to respond to this sentiment. 

Mr. Ashley said that he had heard it suggested a number of times that 
the Building Committee were to be toasted at this suppper. The prospect 
had been a very painful one to the Committee. They didn't want any 
more toasting ; they had had enough of it. Howard Hall, in which their 
new rooms were to have been dedicated, had been toasted. Their furni- 
ture had all been toasted to ashes. The beautiful gas fixtures designed 
for the new halls had been toasted, and now that the Society had come here 
to-ni"-ht and toasted the new Lyceum Building too, the Committee hardly 
knew what to say. The Committee had had a hard time of it. But there 
was one consolation. At future celebrations of the Lyceum, and at future 
dedications of Lyceum Halls, they could come in and tell over their ex- 
ploits. As the old members had been in to-day and told how at previous 
removals of the Society they had numbered but ten or twelve members ; 
so this Committee would at future removals and dedications, when the 
Lyceum would probably number several thousands, gravely narrate the 
history of our removal in the year 1858, to a little hall on Westminster 
street, just large enough to hold the Society, numbering only six hundred. 
The Lyceum had been quite a wandering Society, as they had heard to- 
day. But they had always benefited themselves by their removals, which 
was not quite in accordance with the notions of their patronymic Philoso- 
pher. He then called the attention of the present members of the Lyceum 
to the progress which had been made in their day. They had increased 
the numbers and resources of the Society beyond the remotest anticipation 
of these old members, who were with them to-night. And to crown all, 
they had not only made another move, and the best move that had been 
made yet, but they had done more moving that day, than the old members 
had done in years together. They had moved to three different halls to 



45 



dedicate one. The orator of the day had said that the name of " Lyceum" 
was derived from the school of a philosopher who used to teach while 
walking about. Certainly, by the moves the Lyceum had arranged for and 
carried out that day, they had shown their allegiance to the memory of 
this Peripatetic, while at the same time, the late conflagration had demon- 
strated the truth of Franklin's proverbial saying, that " three moves were 
equal to one fire." 

8. Brown University — Amid the mutations of time, the love of her 
children remains unchanged. 

Music — " Jackson March." 

Prof. A. Harkness, of Brown University, was called up, 
and addressed the company as follows : 

In responding to your graceful sentiment, I cannot but regret that this 
pleasing duty should not have fallen to better hands — to one whose longer 
experience of academic life might better entitle him to stand in this 
presence as the representative of the Alma Mater of so many of those 
whom I see gathered here to-night. Permit me, however, in the name of 
the University, not only to express to you her grateful acknowledgement of 
this tribute of affection, but also to tender to you her sincere congratula- 
tions on the success which has crowned your efforts. Let me assure you 
Old Brown is proud to be named amid the glad festivities of this hour, at 
this your family re-union, this glad Thanksgiving of your fraternity. She 
greets you to-night as a brother laborer in the great republic of letters. 
We have little sympathy with those who see in the Lyceum and the plat- 
form only the rival of academic culture ; we find in them rather the true 
friend of all culture. With their libraries, their reading rooms, their 
discussions, their lectures, they keep alive the intellectual activities of the 
people. It is under the festering care of our free American life that the 
Lyceum finds its nurture and its home. Cradled in those early days of 
liberty on the banks of the Ilissus, in the delightful groves where that first 
Lyceum lecturer discoursed philosophy, it has followed the westward march 
of freedom to this its chosen home. There the classic Apollo was its 
guardian deity ; here our own great Franklin, whose statue you inaugurate 
to-day, is its Magnus Apollo. 

The University I have the honor to represent pledges you her best 
wishes in the literary enterprise in which you have embarked. She has 
already more than once been proud to transfer to her rolls names that 
honored your own. She is ever pleased to see her Alumni repair to your 
halls, and in return, she throws open her own doors to invite ybur sons 
to her intellectual banquets; Allow me, then, to give you as my closing 
sentiment — 



m 

46 



The Lyceum and the University — Co-woi-kers in the great community of 
letters : long may Providence smile upon them both. 

9. 2 he Clergy — Earnest workers in the Master's Vineyard, may they 
eventually hear the blessed words—" Well done, good and faithful 
servants." 

Music — " Dundee." 

Rev. Aug. Woodbury was called upon to respond to this 
sentiment. The reverend gentleman proceeded to speak of 
the old New England clergymen, introducing many humor- 
ous anecdotes of Parsons Miles, Clapp, Byles and others, 
and alluding to the fact that the first sermon ever preached 
against slavery, was delivered by Rev. Dr. Hopkins, in 
Newport, about the commencement of the war of the 
Revolution. He spoke of their patriotism — their readiness 
to take their muskets and go in the ranks to fight for the 
liberties of their country. Seldom were they unfaithful. 
Occasionally they found themselves opposed to the popular 
will. In the case of inocculation, they came in contact 
with Frankljn. They sustained inocculation for the small 
pox. He, then seventeen years old, .opposed it in so 
irreverent a manner as to merit and receive from one of 
them a sharp rebuke. The clergy of the past were true and 
faithful men, and the impress of their influence was felt 
upon the mind of New England, educating and strength- 
ening it, and teaching it to think. Beneath the hard 
exterior of Puritanism were genial and warm hearts and 
strong brains. The people were educated in New England 
homes, where the principles of liberty were taught, and 
were received as mother's milk. New England young men 
then became the hope of the nation. New England young 
women became its flowers of beauty and love. Out from 
such influences, said Mr. W., grew such an association as 
this. Long may it continue to be an association where 
wise self-culture and the incentives of virtue and truth 
shall animate the young men of our day, to emulate the 
noble deeds of those who have gone before. 



47 

10. The Press— The Lever of the World. 
Music — " liail Columbia." 

Mr. Geo. W. Danielson, of the Post, was called up and 

responded as follows : 

Mr. President, and Ladies and Gentlemen : 

I rise with much embarassment to respond to this op-press-ive demand, 
and for several reasons, either of which would afford a sufficient cause for 
remaining silent. In the first place I am no orator, as are the scores of 
young men before me, who have been trained and disciplined to " add 
the momentum of eloquence to the power of logic" in that high school of 
oratory, whose proud successes we celebrate to-night. 

And, furthermore, I am a representative here of a press that requires of 
me action — not speech-making — a press whose insatiate iron jaws are even 
now impatiently champing for its accustomed morning repast, while its 
faithful coadjutor, the steam engine, is fretfully hissing its disgust at my 
tedious delay. 

And, Mr. President, I have cause to regret being called upon to respond 
for the press, for another reason, which all present can appreciate. The 
press always likes to speak for itself. If not omnipotent, it is almost 
omnipresent, and therefore needs no representative. It is as complete an 
embodiment of gab as a lawyer — a Philadelphia lawyer, I mean — and 
never needs go beyond its own types for orations. It not only speaks for 
itself, but it speaks for almost everybody else. It cries " fire" and " mur- 
der" in one' breath, and in the next sings to your babies the softest 
lullabys. It multiplies the auditors of your orators, and gives almost 
unlimited voice to your poets. It figures, it narrates, and argues, and sings 
songs, and calls names, and talks nonsense and gabbles, and malicious 
people say it tells lies, but the cases are not on record. It is the first and 
last actor in your celebrations and dedications — on your joyous occasions 
and at your solemn feasts. 

I heard of a countryman once who visited Philadelphia on business. 
While standing in his hotel door one morning, he heard a terrible ringing 
of bells, and soon learned that it was an alarm of fire. Having never seen 
a fire, save in his own chimney — or at least having never seen one of 
those ever-dreaded but always magnificent conflagrations that sometimes 
occur, unfortunately, in other cities than Philadelphia, he determined to 
see this one. An engine went rattling past, and he followed it. For a 
good mile or more, running fast and bi-eathing hard, he followed it, the 
bells still pealing out their alarm notes, and the engine still hurrying for- 
ward with something short of the speed of that lightning which was to have 
spoken to us through the great Atlantic cable. Just then his eye caught 



48 



the face of an old acquaintance somewhat more accustomed to city life, who 
was leisurely walking on the sidewalk. He could do no less than stop just 
a moment to shake hands with his friend, and his friend could do no less 
than inquire how it came that, with his face begrimed with dust and per- 
spiration, }iis hair streaming in the wind, his dickey as destitute of starch 
as though he was a bachelor, and with almost his last breath drawn out, he 
should be following that machine. " Why," answered the countryman, " I 
never saw a fire in my life. I supppose it must be very grand — and I am 
bound to see one." " But my dear fellow," said his acquaintance, " you 
are giving yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble. Go back quietly 
to your hotel — wait till afternoon, and you will see the whole of that fire — 
Avhich is yet a good two miles off — in the evening papers." " Strange that 
I didn't think of that," said the countryman, and he walked back. That 
fellow, Mr. President, had faith in the press, and his faith shows the inti- 
mate relation sustained at the present day between the events of the hour 
and their life-pictures in the daily newspapers. 

It strikes me as barely possible that some credulous mortal amongst those 
who were invited to this entertainment is not present here, because he 
thinks he can get the whole of the festival for two or three pennies in to- 
morrow's Post or Journal. I sincerely pity such a man, but will do all in 
my power to realize his expectations. My friend here — [the Journal's 
representative] — whom I much wish had been called up in my stead — and 
myself, will do all that we may, besides eating his share of the dedication 
supper, to give him the worth of his pennies. The Press, to-morrow 
morning, Mr. President, will speak for you, for your friends here, for your 
excellent supper, for your beautiful hall and library rooms, for your orator 
and poet, and for itself. 

I give you as a sentiment : 

The Franklin Lyceum — The Cornelia of our local institutions. She may 
point to scores of the most honored names in this muncipality, and like the 
Roman matron, proudly exclaim — " These are my Jewels." 

11. The Bar — Honor and dignity must crown their efforts, because 
they have elevated aims. 

Music — " Fowler's March." 

Sam'l Currey, Esq., spoke as follows to this sentiment : 

Mr. President : 

This social, intellectual entertainment of yours this evening, is sug- 
gestive of the brotherhood of society. You come together to commemo- 
rate this prosperous period in the history of your Lyceum, and you 
invite and there gather around your welcome board delegations, not only 



49 



from kindred associations, but from all associations. Indeed, the occasion 
makes us feel that all associations of humanity are kindred associations. 
They are so ; all ties here are kindred ties, and men everywhere are a 
common brotherhood. And so of knowledge and all its varieties of all the 
many-tongued sciences, of all labors, all professions, and of all the pur- 
suits of American industry, these too are kindred ; and, " if not equal all," 
they are yet all necessarily connected together, all made dependent one 
upon another, reflective or auxiliary. For in this federative code of 
human affairs nothing is first and nothing last, nothing is small and nothing 
great, except that all are first and greatest, each in its appointed order, 
sequence and relations. We, therefore, who are not of your Lyceum, 
Mr. President, may and do participate in the common fraternal congratu- 
lations of the evening. 

The Franklin Lyceum has grown to be an institution in our city. It is 
your Lyceum, it is our Lyceum, it is everybody's Lyceum. We concede to 
to you the credit, the labor and expense of maintaining its efficiency ; the 
advantages which flow from it pour into the lap of the community. You 
have done right therefore in affording to us who are not of you this oppor- 
tunity to acknowledge your good works, and to testify our appi'eciation of 
your labors, whether in promoting the general intellectual culture, a better 
knowledge of some of the practical sciences, or, as in your present success- 
ful effort, the adornment of the external aspect of your city. May your 
new edifice, neat and commodious, be long spared the ravages of the 
elements, and long may it adorn our ever-thronged, thronging Westmin- 
ster, and sorry we all are that its shadows do now fall on saddening scenes 
of recent devastation. 

In acknowledging, Mr. President, the sentiment offered in honor of the 
profession to which I belong, you will not expect from so humble a member 
any great pretensions. Some names which have adorned our forum, and 
shed lustre on our halls of legislation and upon many dehghted assemblies 
of the people, I might mention : proud names they are, and always in 
reserve for occasions like the present. These, however, are names of by- 
gone sages of the law, but whose memories still linger in the recollections 
of this community. To the fond fidelity of these recollections, I may best 
leave their keeping — for of some the new earth is still fresh that covers 
what was but is not of them. You will rather expect me to speak of living- 
men ; of the sympathies and views of the duties of life, of men who have 
duties to perform, who have a name to make and establish, and a commu- 
nity to serve. Let me say, Mr. President, in behalf of this fraternity of 
men, that however arduous we may find the labor of high attainments in 
this exacting profession, and however irksome at times the constancy of 
the task of composing other men's difficulties, we are yet prone to seek, 
and when we find not, we create occasions for the cultivation of other 
interests than those exclusively of our profession ; and of these, as most 



50 



appreciated, the interests social, educational, moral and religious of the 
community in which we have planted the seeds, and where we hope to reap 
the harvest of our fortunes. The Providence Bar is composed for the 
most part of young men, or of men comparatively young, and I would fain 
hope I do not promise too much in pledging their ever-ready cooperation 
in any labor or enterprise that may be thought conducive to either the 
material, intellectual or moral welfare of the generous people amongst 
whom we live. 



12. The Medical Profession — True philanthropists, their constant 
endeavor is to ameliorate the condition of mankind. 

Music — " The Doctor's Horse." 



Dr. C. G. McKnight responded for the profession in 
a playful, humorous vein, and closed with the following 
sentiment : 

The Members of the Franklin Lyceum — May they live long, and die 
happy, without the aid of a doctor. 

13. Woman — 

If tlie fair Eden of Earth's primal years, 
Ere yet transgression taught the use of tears, 
Was lost through her, as ancient fables feign, 
O'er that first fault no longer need we grieve. 
Her daughters expiate the crime of Eve. 

Music — " Haste to the Wedding." 
A. Payne, Esq., responded for the ladies, as follows : 

Mr. President : 

I am glad to be designated on this pleasant occasion to respond to this 
sentiment, and I will show my respect for those in whose behalf I am to 
speak, by omitting all those compliments, which, however well-deserved, 
are perhaps quite often enough repeated, and availing myself of the op- 
portunity of calling their attention to an object worthy of them and not 
wholly foreign to this occasion. 

Most of us have seen those great historical pictures which mark the 
difi'erent eras in the progress of our country. Whoever has seen the Em- 
barkation of the Pilgi'ims has been reminded of a class of men and of an 
order of work not common in human history. The men who led the 
insurrection of the human mind against spiritual wickedness in high 
places, who confronted the tyranny of the Stuarts in the old world, and 
laid the foundations of society on the bleak shores of New England, 



51 



represented one of those crises in human affairs of which the number has 
been small. 

Another of these pictures represents Franklin, the printer, the states- 
man and the sage, in the full maturity of his majestic powers, pleading the 
cause of the rising republic before the sovereign of the most brilliant 
nation in Europe. The young men of this association have done well this 
day in placing in front of their new hall the statue of this great man. 
Who can tell the influence which it may exert ? How many a young 
man, as he looks up at the noble form and recalls the history of Franklin, 
may find in that glance and that memory the turning point between a life 
of industry, honor and virtue, and a life of idleness, pleasure and vice ! 

Still another historical picture represents the surrender of their arms by 
the English army in the calm, grand presence of Washington. The more 
we contemplate this event the more important it seems. Here it was that 
the descendant of a long line of kings yielded his sceptre to a citizen. 
Here was completed the great change by which power was transferred 
from government to the people, to be held thenceforth in trust for the 
general welfare. 

Ladies, it is known to you that your countrywomen are about to secure 
the home and grave of Washington to be preserved forever sacred as a 
memorial of that great and good man. Let not the women of Rhode 
Island be behind their sisters in other portions of the country. By doing 
your full share in this noble work, you will equal if you do not surpass 
those young men to the story of whose merits we have listened with so much 
pleasure. 

Geo. W. Pettes, Esq., of Boston, was also called up in 
behalf of the ladies, and read the following beautiful off- 
hand poem for their amusement and gratification : 

When he who stood, well versed in classic lore. 
And taught, by dint of oratorio power, 
That wisdom's hand would richest treasure bring, 
Did you not quaff of the Pierian spring ? 

Did you not walk within the sacred grove, 

When yonder Poet sang of youthful love ? 

And can you now, while charmed your every sense, 

Roaming at will 'mong flowers of eloquence, 

Pass but a moment of the gliding hour. 

In looking kindly on my little flower ? 

Does fair Lucille, who frolics with the Cits, 
And frightens a piano into fits, 



52 



Who all accomplished in the graceful arts, 

Can dance and sing, and play the Queen of Heai'ts, 

Make these her pastime ? And in lonely hours 

Do studious cares employ her nobler powers ? 

Can she with Goethe muse, with Virgil roam, 

And entertain great Shakspeare at her home ? 

See gay Orlando caught by Rosalind's wiles, 

And know why Beatrice on Benedick smiles ? 

Are these her paintings on which morning's ray 

So fondly quivers, as it fain would stay ? 

This her embroidery, and her crayons there, 

That written scroll whose letters are so fair ? 

When closed the shutters and the sofa wheeled, 

Can she with Ajax once more take the field ? 

How shall the happy fireside gi'oup rejoice 

To hear the silvery music of her voice. 

As now fair Corinne pours her witching song, 

And now sweet Elia's echoes float along; 

Stern Conrad kisses pale Medora's brow. 

And gay Rowena smiles on Ivanhoe ; 

Our fair-haired Madelaines bless St. Agnes Eve, 

And the knight's story woes sweet Genevieve. 

For Lillian's love we sigh an hour away. 

Or catch the spray gem of the culprit Fay. 

Charms are more lovely — beauty wears her crown 

When wisdom guides and rhetoric yields renown. 

O then, fair woman plays a noble part, 

And wins the answering rhetoric of the heart. 

What though denied, ye fair ones of our race, 
The right to vote, or hold a Praetor's place ; 
A woman's influence cannot be suppressed ; 
Man loves and honors — please to add the rest. 
Did we not purchase where you said we could ? 
Did we not alter where you said we should ? 
That lovely bonnet and the cloak of fur ? 
Are not the pew doors wider than they were ? 
Do we not cling to you through good and ill ? 
Do you not always have your own sweet will ? 

Beam forth, bright eyes, on this our festal night, 
Illume this pageant with their envied light. 
Welcome to feasts, that sterner man may love 
To act with pride, with courtesy to move ; 



53 



Welcome to halls where learning sits enshrined, 
And wisdom holds the peerage book of mind. 
Welcome to homes, which, like the radiant morn, 
Thy truth shall brighten, and thy smiles adorn. 



This closed the festivities of the evening, and the com- 
pany separated in the best of spirits, as the Old First 
Baptist bell was intoning twelve, and the plaintive strains 
of the Band were suggesting the the sweetness of Home. 



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